


A Court of Vices

by snarkydarkling



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Murder, Scheming, Succession Crisis, backstabbing, royal affairs, this is what happens when i watch too much game of thrones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 04:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10677258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkydarkling/pseuds/snarkydarkling
Summary: Alina is a new debutante at the royal court and whose eye should she capture but Tsar Aleksander Morozov himself? Trouble is, he's already married...





	1. a lamb as white as snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes: 
> 
> 1\. This plot has been heavily inspired by [ this text-based game](https://www.choiceofgames.com/romance/). You should all check it out if you're into murder, backstabbing, royal affairs, and political scheming.
> 
> 2\. The setting is more historical than it was in the canon. People speak more formally and stick to their stereotypical gender roles. The Darkling will probably be more ManlyTM and a bit of a social darwinist. 
> 
> 3\. Alina is more corruptible and does some morally questionable things...

**I.**

 

“The court of Tsar Aleksander Morozov is a brood of vipers, my dear. They will descend down upon you like hungry lions to fresh meat. You are young, you are innocent, and therefore, easy to corrupt in their eyes. The moment you are announced at court, they will try to pull you into all manner of vices! Treacherous games of greed, petty revenge, power plays, and unspeakable scandal. Take caution you do not find yourself disgraced by such debauchery. You are here for one thing and one thing only: to make a favourable impression in society and by so doing, procure a financially stable suitor and no longer be a burden to the Duke. Need I remind you that it is only because of Duke Keramsov’s noble standing and charity that you girls have been given this opportunity? Any other orphan girl would give an arm and leg for a proper debutante season and even more for a season at the royal court! I therefore expect you to behave with the propriety and the virtuous character of your station.”

It was hard for Alina not to roll her eyes at another of Ana Kuya’s verbose speeches. She had heard this particular one enough times to have it memorized and it was a struggle not to mockingly recite it as she had done on so many other occasions when Ana wasn’t looking. The other girls always got a good laugh out of her impression of the uptight caretaker.

“Is that all?” Alina asked, trying to keep the sarcasm from her tone.

“No. You will be chaperoned at all times. Maybe in the days of the Lantsovs we could risk leaving you alone with the courtiers. But that court is long gone. You won’t be dining with diplomats and distant relatives but war lords and military generals always looking to improve their rank and influence.”

Alina had read about the reign of the dynastic Lantsov family in her history textbooks. They had ruled for the better half of Ravka’s history before being violently overthrown by the Morozov line, a powerful family with Grisha blood. Years of the Lantsov’s suppression of the Grisha had turned public favour against them and now nearly all the aristocracy and nobility were practiced in the Small Science.

“I better not dine with anyone, then,” Alina mused with a cheeky smile.

Ana Kuya didn’t find it very funny.

 

**II.**

 

Alina suppressed a yawn as Ana Kuya introduced her to another wrinkly old nobleman. She had gone through half a dozen potential suitors in the last half hour and absolutely none of them had caught her attention. They were rich in rank and rubles but middle-aged. Alina had the sneaking suspicion that Ana Kuya was hoping to dump her off on some eager patrician who was too old for the debacles of court and eager for a nubile young wife. It was hard not to shudder in disgust at the way some of them looked at her.

So much for propriety.

She cast a forlorn glance at the younger men standing awkwardly at the edges of the ballroom. Ana Kuya hadn’t spared them a second glance.

“They’re too young to inherit property; too poor to support a wife. I don’t know why they bother,” she muttered.

Still, if Ana wasn’t eager on being open-minded, it looked like Alina’s options were pretty slim.

Just then, the fanfare of flutes signalled the arrival of Tsar Aleksander and his consort, the Tsaritsa Katerina of Udova. They were even more magnificent in the flesh than they were in their portraits. The Tsaritsa was a tall, statuesque vision with frosty blue eyes and long black hair that reached her hips. She wore a ceremonial _kefta_ of royal blue that brought out the sharpness of her gaze. But even her beauty paled in comparison beside the otherworldly magnetism of Tsar beside her. His features were not dainty and uncalloused like a sheltered fairy-tale prince might be, but rugged and athletic. Traces of small scars ran across his pale face, only adding to his intrigue. Alina didn’t remember there being any scars in the portrait.

A courtier awkwardly cleared his throat and announced their names before the whole ballroom bowed their heads or curtsied.

The Tsar gave a bored nod before he and his consort retired to their thrones.

“Strange,” remarked Alina. “I would have thought they’d at least turn about the room for us.”

“Oh, they never dance,” came Lady Genya’s voice from beside her. “They positively hate each other.”

“Really?” Alina’s eyes must have gone wide because Lady Genya laughed at her expression.

“You must be new to court,” she said, offering a warm smile. “I attend to Her Majesty and she can talk of nothing else but of how the Tsar won’t lay a finger on her. It is a marriage of convenience, as I understand it. Of course, it is a bit of a pickle when it comes to producing more heirs. As you know, their only daughter is an _otkazats’ya_ and therefore cannot inherit the throne. Poor thing.”

Ana Kuya looked scandalized.

Alina, on the other hand, found Lady Genya’s frankness of all things royal incredibly refreshing. She quickly made plans to find a way to get rid of her chaperone to explore the Palace (and its fascinating occupants) in peace.

 

**III.**

 

When it came time to present the new debutantes to the Tsar and Tsaritsa, Alina waited in a long line of poufy-dressed girls, some of them from the Keramzin orphanage where she grew up, the others from families of nobility. It was always easy to tell these two groups apart since the Keramzin girls were in simple white dresses with the barest of details while the others could afford more fashionable dresses with hoop skirts, golden embroidery, ostrich plumes, silky frills, glittering jewelry, and a thousand other miniscule details that made each girl unique among the rest. In contrast, it would be a miracle indeed if anyone could pick Alina out in a crowd of her Keramzin peers, dressed identically to one another.

She tried not to resent this fact. She had grown up with Ana Kuya constantly preaching about the virtues of gratitude. Be grateful the Duke has taken pity on you. Be grateful he’s allowed you into his country home. Be grateful he’s pulled strings for a debutante season at the royal court. Be grateful, be grateful, be grateful. The words had long since lost its meaning for her. Now, “be grateful” just meant “shut up and smile”.

There were only three girls in front of her now. A courtier read out the girl’s name, her sponsor, and her Grisha order, if any. Most of the Keramzin girls did not belong to any order but they were a handful of Fabrikators and a single lone Inferni who hadn’t gotten the proper training for fear of burning the orphanage down. Then there was Alina whose powers did not fit nicely into any order and were entirely useless. Unlike the other summoners, her aptitude for conjuring light usually earned her at best mild interest and at worst a raised eyebrow. She hoped the Crown wouldn’t notice or care.

Alina watched a haughty-looking girl in an ornate dress approach the throne.

“The Duchess of Osinsk is pleased to present to the Crown, Lady Viktoria Osinova from the Order of the Living and the Dead.”

The girl curtsied deeply in the way they had all been taught to do when approaching the throne. The broach of ruby red that was pinned to her dress sparkled as she moved. The Tsaritsa smiled warmly at her and asked her about her family. The Tsar rested his long fingers on his chin, saying nothing.

“Duke Keramsov is pleased to present to the Crown, Miss Alina Starkova from the Order of Summoners.”

Like Viktoria and all the others girls before her, Alina focused her gaze on the floor, curtsying deeply and slowly. Unsurprisingly, the Tsaritsa had nothing to say to her, not even a smile on her cold lips. Such was the treatment for orphan girls without the title of “Lady”. Alina had no doubt that most of the nobility here considered her a rat trying to pass itself off as an eagle.

“You do not have the customary broach for the Order of Summoners,” the Tsar remarked dryly.

Alina startled a little when she realized the Tsar was addressing her. It wasn’t customary for the Crown to speak directly to an untitled debutante---unless there was something they disliked. While the Tsaritsa indulged in little exchanges from the ladies of noble families from time to time, it was well-known the Tsar of Ravka considered such debutante balls a waste of his time and sometimes looked for any opportunity to point out the ridiculous.

Ana Kuya shot a pleading look at the stiff Duke Keramsov who opened his mouth to explain before the Tsar put up a hand to silence him. Now Alina would have to explain the situation herself and pray to the Saints she wouldn’t say anything stupid to embarrass the Duke.

“It is not a mistake, _moi tsar_ ,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. It was hard to remain calm with those glittering slate eyes cutting into her. “I do not wear the customary broach for the Order of Summoners because I do not summon the usual elements.”

“Then what, pray tell, do you summon?”

Great. Of the hundreds of girls that had been presented so far, the Tsar had chosen to test his claws out on her.

“Light, _moi tsar_. I am a light summoner.”

A murmur went through the courtiers, no doubt laughing at the idea of a light summoner being considered Grisha in the first place. Their kingdom had been defended against enemies by powerful Heartrenders and Inferni, their ships manned by Tidemakers and Squallers, their sick cured by trained Healers. Even the Order of Fabrikators, lowly as some considered them, had invented many gadgets that proved advantageous on the warfront. But a light summoner? What good could she do?

The Tsar gave her an appraising once over that sent shivers down her spine. The courtiers may not understand, but surely the Tsar would. After all, he hailed from a long line of powerful shadow summoners who had once been feared and despised before Ravka had seen the advantages of a shadow army to placate their enemies.

“Show us.”

His words hung heavy in the air and the ballroom suddenly went quiet. All eyes were on her now. In the years of debutante balls that passed through the Palace, Alina didn’t think anyone had been forced to show their power to the Crown. Clearly, the Tsar must think she was lying; that an orphan girl like her had invented a power to increase her chances of a suitor; a power useless enough that she couldn’t be drafted into the army and yet distinctive enough that it would set her apart.

Well, she was more than happy to prove him, and everyone else for that matter, wrong.

Alina stuck out her hand and conjured up a warm ball of light in her open palm. And just so she wouldn’t be accused to trickery, she sent the ball rising towards the throne. She had been aiming to set it in the Tsar’s own hand before a pair of _oprichniki_ swooped forward and brandished their spears through the ball, scattering the light.

Alina held her breath. She hadn’t thought about how her performance could have been interpreted as a direct threat to the Tsar’s life, even if her light was harmless. To her relief, the Tsar gave his _oprichniki_ a long hard look before they whispered apologies under his cold gaze like misbehaving schoolchildren.

He turned back to Alina, the boredom slightly lifted from his face.

“Impressive,” he said.

“Thank you, _moi tsar_ ,” Alina said, curtsying deeply again to take her leave.

As soon as she’d backed away from the throne as was customary, Ana Kuya rushed to her side, blabbering about how she was both petrified (“Saints, girl! Why did you send it flying at His Majesty?”) and relieved (“Still, I could not have hoped for a better impression! You are lucky the Tsar did not take offense to your trick!”).

As the night wore on, Alina danced with a number of different suitors, some of them whom Ana Kuya approved of but most of them not. If it weren’t for her interaction with the Tsar, she doubted there would be any young men vying for a chance at a dance. Now, everyone wanted to dance with the girl who had impressed the Tsar. Through small talk and polite conversation, she gleaned all sorts of information and gossip. Rumors flew that the long-lost descendant of the Lantsov line had allegedly returned to court in disguise to reclaim the throne. They questioned whether Lady Genya was the Tsar’s secret mistress. Speculations were made about the health of the princess who was notably absent from the ball. And to her surprise, a number of courtiers curiously asked her to conjure up a ball of light again.

Now that the Tsar approved, it seemed Alina’s lowly light summoning powers were just as fashionable as Heartrending.

Alina was just about to retire to rest her feet when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. She whirled around and nearly smacked right into a tall figure in midnight black. He stuck out a graceful hand towards her.

“May we have this dance?”

It was the Tsar of Ravka.


	2. all the king's horses

**IV.**

 

Alina wondered if she was dreaming.

Just a few short hours ago, she’d entered the Grand Palace Ballroom in dull and forgettable dress with only a pair of aging patricians as potential suitors and now she was turning about the room with Tsar Aleksander Morozov.

The entire ballroom had cleared so everyone could watch them. It was Alina’s first season at court and even she could tell by the courtier’s reactions that the Tsar rarely danced at these occasions, least of all with an untitled debutante.

He was much taller than her, his arms strong and firm. When he spun her, she felt her feet momentarily leave the floor so she was very nearly flying. She couldn’t stop herself from gazing deeply into his eyes, utterly starstruck.

“How long is your stay at court?”

“Just for the season, _moi tsar,”_ she replied, blushing under his attention. “I’ll be returning to Keramzin in the fall.”

“Can we convince you to stay in the capital? You can be put up in a townhouse outside the Palace gates.”

The suggestion thew Alina off guard. She wasn’t entirely sure why the Tsar was dancing with her in the first place. She wasn’t vain enough to think it had anything to do with her beauty. But now the Tsar was making it seem as though he needed her presence for some other intention. Unlike the old Lantsov rulers, the Tsar did not have much of a reputation for skirt-chasing. Still, given his cold attitude towards the Tsaritsa, rumours still circulated about a secret paramour at court.

“Whatever for?”

He didn’t answer at first, the corner of his lips tugging in what could only be described as a suggestive smile. Alina almost collapsed into his arms just from the effect this look had on her. She could feel the heat of each of his fingers pressed into the small of her back. Her chest suddenly felt very tight in her corset; her heart beating like an incessant drum.

“Your powers are unique. They could be of some use to the Crown.”

She wasn’t sure whether his response disappointed or delighted her. Even if he had meant to take her as his mistress, that was a bold and dangerous path. Alina was reminded again for Ana Kuya’s warnings. Maybe there had been some truth to them after all.

“I’m flattered Your Majesty thinks so,” Alina replied graciously. “I must speak to Duke Keramsov to--”

“The Duke is of no consequence. You must come join us for the hunt tomorrow.”

Alina was even more taken aback. It seemed the Tsar was intent on keeping her close for the rest of her stay. She wished she could be privy to his true intentions but his expression was always unreadable as ever.

“The hunt? Oh, Your Majesty has greatly overestimated my competence in the saddle.”

“But you can ride?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must join us. A servant will call upon you when it is time to ride out.”

Clearly, the Tsar was a man who had little experience taking no for an answer. Alina found herself nodding and wondering what Ana Kuya would make of his demands. Then again, what Ana didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

As the night drew to a close, the Tsar had danced precisely once the whole evening and it had been with Alina. Even as they each moved to separate parts of the ballroom, Alina could still feel his sharp gaze on her. People were starting to whisper that her light summoning had somehow bewitched the Tsar. The Tsaritsa shot her cold glares from across the room and it was clear several of the courtiers did not approve of her---either because she was untitled or because they disliked her on the Tsaritsa’s behalf.

She noticed Ivan Petrov, the Tsar’s advisor, watching her with curious appraisal, no doubt already calculating some way to keep Ravka one step ahead. Lady Genya, despite being the Tsaritsa’s lady-in-waiting, smiled warmly at Alina when she passed by. Even Duke Keramsov (who until that night couldn’t even be bothered to remember her name) deigned to hold an entire conversation with her about the Tsar and what they had spoken about. He was overly enthusiastic at the thought of keeping Alina in Os Alta; anything to impress the Crown with the lowly orphan he’d sponsored.

When all the debutantes had finally returned to their rooms, Ana Kuya rounded on her.

“Yes, yes, yes, we’re all thrilled the Tsar has taken such a keen interest in you, but need I remind you he is _already married_?”

“He didn’t mean it like that!” Alina snapped, suddenly defensive. “He said my powers could be...could be of use to the Crown.”

To her surprise, Ana Kuya threw her head back in bitter laughter.

“Pah! Is that what he told you? You are more naive than I thought, girl. There can be only one thing a man in his position could want of someone from your station and you are indebted too far to the Duke to bring such slander and shame to his name! What will become of the younger girls at Keramzin if rumours started about you being the Tsar’s mistress? They wouldn’t stand a chance of any respectable suitors! Is that what you want for your sisters? A life of destitution living in the shadow of your sins? Is it?”

Alina was too tired to even roll her eyes. “Leave me alone! I just want some peace!”

“Hmpf, I hope you use your solitude to think hard about how you ought to behave. You can’t afford to live in a fantasy world. Saints Feodor and Basil, if my poor nerves survive this ordeal, I shall have an entire bottle of sherry to celebrate!”

 

**V.**

 

Alina kept mum about the Tsar’s hunting invitation. In any case, it was better for Ana if she found out too late to be able do anything. She could still hear the old woman’s warnings ringing in her head all morning as she contemplated her decision. She had turned it over in her head a hundred times before finally deciding to go.

After all, unlike the titled ladies, it wouldn’t be so dire if she left court without securing a proper engagement. She’d have plenty of opportunities to meet respectable young men back in Keramzin. They certainly wouldn’t be rich or titled, but at least they wouldn’t be wrinkly old perverts either. She was only going to be at the Grand Palace once in her life and she’d hate herself if she’d turned down the chance at adventure just to sit through another boring tea with Sir Whats-His-Name. No, one day she’d tell her grandchildren about how she once enjoyed an adventurous hunt with the Tsar of Ravka.

She snuck a few drops of tonic in Ana Kuya’s mid-morning tea and once she was satisfied the old caretaker could sleep through a raging fire, Alina donned her riding clothes and headed out to the stables to meet the hunting party.

Alina had never hunted before. It was considered a purely aristocratic hobby, one of the few that had been left over from the Lantsov rule. The thick forest behind the Palace grounds stood quiet in the early fog. Looking back over her shoulder, the Palace looked like a large bejeweled cathedral from her distance. She hoped she could return there without making too much of a fool of herself.

There was no mistaking the Tsar on his inky black stallion. In his riding boots and embroidered coat, he looked more handsome than usual. Almost like a knight in shining armour. She had barely made it halfway through the stables before his steely eyes caught her and pinned her in place.

“Prepare a horse for Miss Starkova, one that can keep up with us.”

Alina scanned the rest of the hunting party as a pair of courtiers led her towards a dappled grey mare named Quicksilver. She noticed there weren’t very many ladies in attendance as it was still considered crude for a woman to ride a horse in any position other than sidesaddle. That hadn’t stopped Lady Viktoria from joining them. She looked very much in her element, sitting astride on a temperamental Palamino horse. She shot Alina a friendly grin, which surprised her. Perhaps she was playing nice only because Alina had the Tsar’s favour or perhaps she really was not as haughty as she appeared.

As soon as they’d all mounted their steeds, the dogs took off into the woods with the horses in close pursuit. The pace that the Tsar set was no modest thing but Quicksilver was swifter and graceful than most.

As the men gathered speed in pursuit of a fox, Viktoria Osinova trotted up beside her.

“What curious powers you have,” she said, slowing her horse down so rapidly that Alina was forced to do the same just to keep up the conversation.

“People have never really had much use for it,” she said, hoping that sounded modest enough.

“On the contrary, I think you greatly underestimate yourself.”

Alina peered at her, wondering what she could mean and why a titled lady would deign to pay her any kind of attention.

“The Tsar is in a precarious position,” she told her. “With the _otkazats’ya_ pushing for more power, we might find ourselves facing another revolution, not unlike the Lantsovs.”

Now they were the only two riders trailing behind with no one to overhear them. In the distance, Alina could just barely make out a blur of brown and black horses disappearing into the trees.

“And...you think my powers can help with that?”

Viktoria shot her a wicked sort of look, as if she knew some secret Alina wasn’t privy to. She found it infuriating.

“The princess cannot inherit the throne. But the _otkazats’ya_ majority has been lobbying the court to declare her the official heir since the day she was born. I don’t need to explain why that would not suit the future of the Grisha. Until the Tsaritsa can produce a proper Grisha heir, our future is threatened by a shift in the balance of power.”

Alina suddenly felt sympathetic towards Tsaritsa Katerina. It couldn’t have been easy with the whole court holding their breath, waiting for something outside her control.

“Why haven’t Their Majesties tried for another child? I thought it was rare for Grisha parents to have non-Grisha children.”

“There’s rumours that either one or both of them have dabbled in _merzost_ \---”

Alina flinched, horrified at the what she was hearing.

“---and it’s naturally affected their ability to conceive. Of course, there’s also rumours that the Tsaritsa has become so desperate she’s been trying to use _merzost_ to produce a Grisha heir so I suppose you can take your pick of the gossip.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because your power is unique, like His Majesty’s. I think if you wanted...you’d have better success at it than the Tsaritsa.”

“ _What?_ ”

Viktoria looked at her incredulous expression and laughed. “Why do you think His Majesty has taken such an interest in you?”

Before she could respond, a commotion ahead of them signaled the party had successfully captured game. The pair of them rushed their horses ahead to see the Tsar beside his stallion, holding out a speared red fox by the end of its tail. Sweat had stuck his soft curls to his forehead and there was a line of dirt across his well-defined jaw. To her horror, Alina found herself staring intently at his exposed neck, something primal rising in her core at the sight of him.

The look he gave her when she approached them was enough to make her swoon off of her horse. It was a flash of violent lust that disappeared behind a mask of neutrality as soon as it came. Alina swallowed as he walked towards her with the fresh catch in his hand. His head was now level with her crotch and wicked, wicked images flashed through her mind about where she could enjoy the Tsar’s tongue…

“Do you not think it will make a fine scarf?”

He held it out to her for inspection, the bright orange fur glistening in the sun. Alina was partly horrified at being presented a dead carcass and partly flushed to the bone.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice unsteady with nerves. “Very beautiful. I’m certain the Tsaritsa will like it.”

She’d only thrown in the last line because she was aware of how everyone was staring at them. There was no way they could all be thinking what Viktoria was thinking. A small smile tugged at his lips again and though Alina hadn’t spent much time in his presence, she had the distinct feeling she was being toyed with.

“Katya does not share my enthusiasm for slaughtering. She does not see the hierarchy of nature; that if the weak are sieved from the strong, it is only the course nature has taken.”

He watched her for her reaction and Alina could not help but feel this was some sort of secret test. She heard a few snickers behind her confirming her suspicions and she decided it was best not to openly disagree with the Tsar, especially not in front of such a large party. Ana Kuya’s warning rang in her mind: _brood of vipers, brood of vipers._

She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage. “To the victor go the spoils.”

By the cat-like smile the Tsar gave her, she could assume she had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome! ^.^


	3. in my lady's chamber

**VI.**

 

The following morning, all the debutantes had been invited for tea with the ladies-in-waiting. Alina arose and dressed tiredly, having gotten little sleep the night before. She couldn’t stop turning Viktoria’s words in her head, trying to squeeze every ounce of meaning and interpretation from them. If what she implied was true, then she certainly wasn’t the only one who thought so, judging by the way the other courtiers on the hunt had snickered and elbowed each other. Even the Tsar seemed in on this great cosmic joke. 

Is that what he had meant when he said she could “be of use to the Crown”? Alina flushed furiously. That was another thing that kept haunting her in her sleep---the intoxicating sight of the Tsar with his cravat undone, covered in sweat, dirt, and blood, making Alina feel dizzy with longing. 

She was glad for the distraction of tea to get her mind thinking of something else. She seated herself as far away from Lady Viktoria as she could manage, settling in beside Lady Genya. They talked of the ball, of how they were finding court, and of their prospective suitors. But even then, Alina could not avoid questions about her dance with the Tsar. To her relief, Lady Viktoria said nothing about yesterday’s hunt, though she did shoot her conspiratorial looks over the rim of her teacup. 

Alina tried to ignore her. 

By noon, the sun was out and Alina joined the rest of the ladies for a walk around the palace grounds. A group of young men were out playing polo and they waved over to them from atop their horses. Alina craned her neck subconsciously to see if the Tsar was among them and then berated herself when she realized what she was doing. 

“Look sharp, girl!” Ana Kuya scolded. “If Lord Komarov sees you sulking like this, he’ll think you sullen and dull!” 

“I don’t  _ care _ about Lord Kumquat! He’s about as interesting as a fruit.” 

Ana’s jaw slacked in wide horror but Alina couldn’t be bothered. She was just about to mentally prepare herself for whatever lecture Ana would spew at her when they were all startled by the sound of a rushing horse. The ladies turned towards the polo game to see a sleek white horse decorated with the royal colours trotting towards them. Even the men stopped their game to see what the fuss was about. 

The official palace courier stopped his horse in front of the ladies and gave a short formal bow before asking for “Miss Alina Starkova”. 

Alina knew something must be amiss immediately. Maybe they had decided she was not fit to be at the court at all. Maybe the Tsaritsa had taken so much offense to her dancing with the Tsar that she’d fashioned an official dismissal. 

Alina stepped forward as the ladies and even the gentlemen stopped to watch. The courier simply took out an ornate package from his pouch and handed it to Alina. 

“His Majesty sends his compliments,” he said, bowing again. 

Alina wanted to refuse, to thrust the package back at him but the Tsar must have given him very direct instructions because as soon as the package was out of his hands, he pulled the reins and galloped away as if evading a fire. 

Alina stared at the package in her hands. It was wrapped in beautiful black and gold brocade. She could have probably sold the paper itself for a hefty sum, let alone whatever was inside. She knew it would be foolish to open the package contents here, with everyone watching and waiting. 

She muttered some excuse and with Ana quickly catching on, they both fled the ladies and walked briskly towards the palace, leaving curious whispers in their wake. It was only when Alina was safely back in her chambers did she truly realize the genius of the Tsar’s plan. 

She hadn’t gotten the chance to refuse his gift but just the act of singling her out like that, in front of all the ladies and half the male suitors, no less, His Majesty had made damn well sure everybody knew who his new favourite was. It would take bold man indeed to court her seriously after the stunt the Tsar had pulled. Then again, that had exactly been his intention:  _ Stay away _ , he’d commanded.  _ She’s mine.  _

Ana was already pacing the room, frantically trying to send messages to Lord Kumquat and Sir Whats-His-Name to make sure they hadn’t gotten the wrong idea; that Alina was still very much open to an alliance; that the Tsar had bestowed no such gift to her. 

It was useless, of course. The damage had already been done. By that very evening, all anyone in the palace could talk about was how Tsar Aleksander had a new mistress and her name was Alina Starkova, a shameless orphan from Duke Keramsov’s estate who’d clearly bewitched the Tsar with that  _ merzost _ she’d displayed during the ball. 

Given the damage her reputation had taken in a few short hours, Alina wondered if it had been the Tsaritsa who had arranged the gift as petty revenge for dancing with her husband. But that thought was gone when Alina carefully pulled apart the beautiful paper to see what was in the box inside: a luxurious red scarf made of glistening fox fur. 

 

**VII.**

 

“This is worse than I could have imagined!” Ana bemoaned. “At least as an untitled debutante, you were beneath anyone’s notice! Beneath any praise or gossip! Now look at you! The rumoured mistress of the Tsar! Not even Lord Komarov will accept an invitation to tea and I’d so hoped if no one would take you, then at least he would! I knew it was a mistake to come here, oh, I knew it! Brood of vipers, all of them! But the Tsar most of all!” 

Alina had long since tuned out Ana Kuya’s apocalyptic predictions of doom and poverty. She sat by the window, watching the ladies circle around the grounds once more, sans their company. She felt oddly numb about the whole situation. Her heart had been through so many emotions over the span of a few short days that she didn’t think she could take anymore. 

The beautiful scarf lay out at her feet. Ana Kuya had tried to return it earlier, but the Tsar’s men refused to take it back, saying it would be insulting to refuse a gift from His Majesty. Another ploy to reel Alina in closer still. Had she been so stupid to fall for his snare? She couldn’t even remember when she’d taken his bait and been pulled in too far to escape. Was it accepting his dance? His invitation to the hunt? She could hardly have refused those too. It seemed like the only way she could have avoided the Tsar’s carefully laid traps were not to show up to court at all. 

The only sensible thing left to do now was to leave court early before rumours reached outside the Palace gates and to Keramzin. Ana had already began flinging their belongings into an open suitcase, muttering under her breath intermittently about “conniving bloodhounds!” and “debauched wolves!”

A knock at the door startled both of them but Alina was at her feet to answer it. To her complete surprise, it was the Tsar’s advisor, Ivan Petrov. 

He gave a formal bow (needless, since she was untitled) and Alina returned it with a curtsy. She didn’t know much about him but she’d heard crossing the Devil was just one step after crossing Ivan Petrov. Despite the fact that they would be leaving shortly, Alina thought it would be wise to play as nice as possible. 

“I see you’re leaving court in a hurry,” he remarked, his eyes flickering to the half-packed suitcase. 

“Yes, it seems my stay here was not very fruitful.” 

He gave an arrogant sort of smirk that indicated he didn’t agree with her at all. He looked thoughtful for a moment before he outstretched his arm towards her. 

“It would be a shame if you did not see the gardens before you left.” 

Surely another trick. Another invitation she could not refuse. Alina could sense Ana frantically shaking her head behind her but refusing Ivan seemed like social suicide at this point. She pressed her lips together in a forced smile. 

“I would be delighted for a tour.” 

 

**VIII.**

 

Alina knew the tour was just a pretense. 

As they walked through the palace gardens, her hand pressed cautiously on Ivan’s shoulder, the silence between them was stifling. Ivan led them into a high-walled garden maze where no one could see or hear them. The world fell silent as they passed through the arched hedges that marked the entrance, as if they’d set foot into a thick forest. 

Ivan pulled his hand away and raised his head up towards the upper palace windows, no doubt scanning for witnesses. It occurred to her that she might have just walked into her own murder but then Ivan spoke. 

“Why are you leaving court?” he demanded. 

“I...I thought it would have been obvious. His Majesty has put my entire reputation in jeopardy---”

“So you think you can avoid the rumours by running off to Keramzin.” 

It wasn’t a threat, at least it didn’t sound like one. 

“Well, yes. It’s not too terrible a thing. I wasn’t particularly enamoured with any of my suitors here. They were old enough to be my father.” 

“But very wealthy. And titled.” 

“It seems to be the only thing people at court care about. You must forgive my country sensibilities.” 

“You do not care for wealth and influence?” He sneered at her, as if it was evident there was no way she could lie to him about her own material desires. 

“Of course I do. Like anyone with sense, I can see how much easier my life would be with some extra money and respect. I grew up in an orphanage. Believe me, I understand how hard it can be to live without material comforts.” 

“And yet, you’d rather settle for some poor  _ otkazats’ya  _ villager.” 

By his tone, Alina could tell he didn’t think very highly of anyone who wasn’t Grisha. 

“Yes, I would. Because I’d like to be  _ in love _ with the man I marry. Is that too much to ask?” 

She thought Ivan would laugh at her romanticism. Instead, his eyes lit up as if she’d said just the thing he’d been hoping for. 

“It seems you haven’t seriously considered the one suitor who could give you all three: wealth, influence,  _ and  _ love.”

Alina scoffed before she could think the better of it. “You can’t be serious! If you mean His Majesty, then I think you’re forgetting that he’s already married!” 

“Not for long.” 

She nearly lost her footing. “ _ What _ ?” 

Ivan looked away. “It’s not something you need to know if you still plan on running off. But, if you have more ambition than you let on, perhaps I can be persuaded to divulge what I know.” 

Alina idly traced a leaf on one of the hedge walls. She was treading on dangerous ground. 

“Obviously, if the Tsar wasn’t married, I would be thrilled to be courted by such a perfect suitor. What woman could decline his affections, especially from one who promises such security? But alas, I cannot accept him. He belongs to Her Majesty and I will not tarnish their sacramental vows by behaving so immodestly.” 

“A woman of God, I take it?” Ivan asked, knowingly. 

Alina wanted to hit herself. She was starting to sound like Ana Kuya. 

“And you are not?” 

“I do what is best for the Crown,” he said, looking up towards the upper windows again. “And if I told you His Majesty marriage could be annulled, what would you say then?” 

“I would say you must be in the business of doing the impossible.” 

Ivan shook his head. “I’ve been conducting a private investigation of the Tsaritsa for many months now. It seems like divine intervention that you should show up at court just as the investigation is drawing to a close.” 

“What investigation? Did His Majesty order it?” 

“The Tsar is unaware. I acted alone upon my own suspicions. You see, I suspect Her Majesty of dabbling in  _ merzost _ .” 

Alina flinched again. “I thought those were just rumours.” 

“When the investigation is made public, I think you’ll find those rumours have been  _ thoroughly _ substantiated. When I present my evidence to His Majesty, I think he’ll be more than persuaded to set Kayta aside.” 

“When you mean ‘set her aside’, do you mean the Tsaritsa will be---”

“Executed, yes. That is the punishment for using  _ merzost _ . It’s a violation against nature, an abomination against God. And once she is out of the way, that leaves you free to take the throne yourself. That is, if you are still planning to stay...”

It was too much for Alina to consider at once. The shock must have been evident on her face because Ivan brought a hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently. 

“It’s a lot to think about, I understand. You have the rest of the day to consider the options. I will sent a servant to your room after dark, when the halls are clear. If you accept the idea, you can accompany them to your new quarters, independent of your nuisance chaperone. If you reject the idea, you can simply tell them you are too tired and be off on your way back to Keramzin the following morning. It will be like we never had this conversation and you will be free to live your boring _ otkazats’ya _ life with no one the wiser.”  

“Why should I trust you?” 

“You shouldn’t,” he warned. “But for now it seems our goals align so we may be temporary allies.” 

 

**IX.**

 

Alina lied awake in her bed, waiting for the tell-tale knock at her chamber door. It was too dark to read the ancient clock on the wall but she surmised it must have been close to midnight. Ana’s light snoring could be heard from the other side of the room but outside the door that led out into the hall, all was still and silent. 

In the corner, all their suitcases had been packed. The wardrobe stood empty save for the dresses they planned to wear for tomorrow’s journey back to Keramzin. If the servant didn’t come, it seemed likely Alina could return to her country life and pretend as if none of this had happened. Would the Tsar really be willing to let her go so easily after all he’d done to trap her here? 

She almost missed the knocking. It was soft, barely perceptible above Ana’s snoring. But she knew the servant was standing there, just outside her chamber door. The light beneath the frame had shifted with their shadow and Alina slowly rose from her bed and cast off her sheets. 

She cracked opened the door barely an inch to peer outside. A young servant girl stood here, pale-faced like a ghost. 

“His Majesty requests your presence, Miss Starkova, if you are not too tired.” 

Alina swallowed. That hadn’t been what Ivan had told her to expect. Her head was swimming. A voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Ana was berating her and telling her to refuse and return to her ordinary life. 

This was it: her last chance to turn back. 

“Of course,” she whispered. “I would be honoured to join His Majesty.” 

 

**X.**

  
Tsar Aleksander Morozov sat regally in his chair by the fireplace, looking obscenely good in a dark silk dressing gown. Without his crown, his hair was disheveled and a single loose curl fell over his eye. The exposed V of his neck was all Alina could stare at it when she entered the room, her eyes greedily taking in every detail of exposed skin. 

He rose from his chair and approached her slowly, like a hawk closing in on its prey. Alina curtsied deeply like she had the first time she met him but she got the sense tonight was not a night of traditional greetings and idle conversation. 

“Come join us in the chamber,” he said, surprising her with his formality. “We have important matters to discuss.” 

It was only then she noticed the servants and  _ oprichniki _ posed about the room. In her lust for the Tsar, she hadn’t even realized they weren’t alone. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, taking his arm as he guided her towards the bedchamber. There could be only one thing on his mind. 

As soon as the door shut behind her, he violently pinned her against the wall, his lips crashing down on hers. She barely had time to think, her entire world swimming with his greedy lips, his sinful tongue, his fingernails digging into skin. His kiss was hungry and demanding and her heart hammered in her ears as she matched his desire with hers. Every inch of skin where he touched was on fire. 

“I thought I’d go mad if I didn’t have you,” he hissed, lashing out at her neck with his teeth. 

Alina moaned, gripping his hard arms for strength. 

“I want to put my mouth on every inch of you,” he said, aggressively tearing open her nightgown. 

“Oh, Your M---” 

He cut her off with another punishing kiss before sinking his fingers into her warm sex. Alina writhed against him, moaned into his kiss, her entire body leaning into his, begging for more. 

He suddenly pulled away from her, leaving behind a vacuum of cold air. She felt him pull her arms in the darkness as she was violently thrown onto the bed. Even before she felt his weight depress the mattress to join her, she knew it would be a night to remember. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (¬‿¬) Hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> FYI, that's probably the height of the smut of this fic. I'm all burnt out from all the smutfics I've written so this will only be rated Mature, not Explicit. 
> 
> More scheming and backstabbing and M U R D E R to follow! *evil laugh* 
> 
> Please, please, please comment and let me know what you think so far! <3


	4. had a great fall

**XI**

Alina awoke the next morning in sheets of black satin. Tsar Aleksander was nowhere to be seen. The curtains to the bay windows had been opened wide to let in the stark morning light, illuminating everything in the gilded bedchamber of the Tsar. She had been so distracted last night, she hadn’t noticed how truly opulent and magnificent it was. The ceiling was high, painted with a colossal fresco of Sankt Illya. One end of the room opened up to tall balcony overlooking the Palace gardens. The doors leading to there had also been set open, allowing a warm breeze to rustle the papers on the Tsar’s writing desk. 

It was only when she spotted the mahogany breakfast tray sitting by the foot of the bed did she realize the servants had already come and went. She didn’t know why she was surprised. Of course the royal family had servants coming in and out of their rooms, opening windows, stoking the fireplace, setting out breakfast trays, and polishing their silver! Alina hadn’t really accounted for the story of her naked form rolled up in the Tsar’s bed making the rounds in the servants quarters and who knew where else.  

She had hoped for a more formal introduction to court with Tsar Aleksander holding a ball in her honour and touting her as his new mistress. Now she felt naive and stupid. This version of events was certainly to be the most sordid of them all. She couldn’t blame Ana Kuya if she had taken off at first light, claiming to have nothing to do with her. 

Alina rose from the sheets, picked up her tattered nightgown from the floor, and had her breakfast out on the balcony. Her thoughts were lost in the night she’d spent with the Tsar. She had finally gotten his mouth right where she’d wanted it. But she knew now wasn’t the time to reminisce like a schoolgirl. Alina would have to think up a strategy if she wanted to keep her head. 

 

**XII**

It took her only a short walk around the Palace grounds to realize her reputation was in the gutter. The ladies wouldn’t even deign to look at her, quickly backing away and scurrying off in the other direction. The noblemen silently laughed at her and cracked jokes at her expense when they thought she was out of earshot. They were crude, vulgar, ugly things whispered about her in the shadows of the Palace walls. And with Ana Kuya long since gone back to the country, Alina was going to have make sure she found her own allies. 

“Not what you thought it would be?” a familiar voice drawled. 

Alina turned around to see Ivan Petrov strolling casually behind her. She figured of all the people in the court, having Ivan as an ally would surely be the best move. After all, wasn’t he the one who had gotten her in this predicament? 

“I was naive,” she said quietly, feeling ashamed of herself for her silly fantasies. A ball for a mistress, indeed! 

“You can’t afford to be in this game.” 

“So what now? I’ve followed your advice and become the laughing stock of Ravka!” 

“I hope you didn’t take my advice just to get into the Tsar’s bed. There’s more at stake here.” 

Alina flushed. “Of course not. You said you could put Katya aside.” 

“So it’s the throne you want after all.” 

“Not so much the throne but to advance my current position.” 

“That can be arranged in due time. In any case, you can sink no further,” he said, smirking slightly. “But first you should take the time to familiarize yourself with the Tsar’s habits. There’s still some documents I have to send for before we can even charge Katya. Besides, even if we succeed to getting rid of Katya, there’s still the matter of princess Tatiana to consider.” 

“What of her? She cannot inherit.” 

Ivan stopped mid-stride and regarded her reproachfully. “Surely, you’ve thought it through. Surely you realize that her presence her at the Capital only spurs on the damned  _ otkazat’sya _ insurgents?” 

“So? We send her away to a convent? Spread rumours that she’s a child conceived of  _ merzost  _ and therefore unfit to rule?” 

Ivan tensed his jaw. “We kill her.” 

Alina bristled and began to walk away. “Absolutely not!” 

Ivan followed. “So you’re prepared to soil your good name and break those sacramental marriage vows you hold so dear but eliminating this opponent is something you’re not prepared to do? Then what have you gained so far?” 

“I didn’t think...I didn’t seriously think you would ask me to do anything like this!” 

Ivan smirked again. “Welcome to court, Miss Starkova. We’re all murderers and liars here. Judging from your actions to get ahead though, I think you’ll fit right in.” 

 

**XIII**

 

Alina spent the next week in quiet contemplation. Amid the sordid things people were whispering about her, she decided to make the best use of her current predicament. As far as anyone knew, the Tsar had never taken a mistress before. There was no precedent for how she was to act or what position she held at court, if any. She spent her first day at the Palace Library, reading up on her history to see what other ladies in her position had done. 

Some fared well. Conveniently timed deaths of previous consorts had allowed past mistresses to ascend to the throne. Other mistresses didn’t fare so well---the worst of which were executed by decapitation for treason. Alina didn’t need to be told twice that she was on thin ice. Her actions would have to be carefully planned and considered if she wanted to survive here. 

So far, she had managed to keep the Tsar’s interest. He regularly called her to his private rooms and performed ministrations that would have made Ana Kuya die of shock. He was a demanding lover, quite aggressive too. But Alina had always liked the dark mix of violence and tenderness with which he dealt with her. The only question now was whether or not Aleksander would bore of her after a few months and return to the Tsaritsa with tearful apologies. 

“Have you thought of a plan yet?” Ivan questioned her in the library one afternoon. It was quiet during the early hours of the morning and there was no fear that they could be overheard. 

“I’m working on it,” Alina told him, shoving one book aside and opening another. 

“You do remember what I told you about Lady Genya? And how skillful she is at poisons?” 

“Yes, I’m more than aware of your plans to poison the princess. I, on the other hand, am hoping to find a method that involves less murder and less insanity.” 

Ivan breathed steadily through his nose and sat down at her table. 

“I’ve given you enough time to think it through. Surely you see there is little to be done to improve your position. You only have two choices. Either, one, you do nothing and wait for the day the Tsar bores of your bedroom antics and sends you away to live in destitution and shame. Or two, take the proper actions to secure your future and the future of the Grisha in Ravka!” 

“I’m not denying that I have little choice in the matter. But what am I supposed to say? ‘Oh, why good evening, Lady Genya. Do you have any poisons I could borrow to potentially murder the crown princess of Ravka?’”. 

“Something with a little more tact, I hope.” 

Alina sighed. “There’s got to be another way. Why not let the princess be and dispose of Katya?” 

Ivan shook his head. “I see you’re still unwilling to get your hands dirty. I am not going to go forward with the charges until I know the princess has been taken care of. There’s no point in eliminating the Grisha-barren Tsaritsa if her  _ otkazat’sya _ offspring is still going to inherit the throne. Princess Anya is the biggest threat to the Grisha of Ravka and I will not let her change the balance of power in court.” 

Alina wanted to argue back but she knew Ivan was right. She didn’t know if she cared enough about the future of the Grisha in Ravka. As of now, the only thing she cared about was keeping the Tsar’s interest in her. And she could only do that if she eventually became the next Tsaritsa and that only happened if Ivan could be persuaded to put forth the charges against Katya but that would only happen if Alina agreed to do it: to murder Princess Anya in cold blood. Her hands were tied with Ivan’s crafty scheming. 

“If I agree to do this,” Alina said, tentatively. “I need a way to make sure the poison isn’t traced back to me. I can’t have Lady Genya telling the court that it was her poison that undid the Princess and that she had given some of me recently.” 

“Precisely. It will all be easier for the court to believe if there’s already someone to take the blame. Someone who isn’t you.” 

“Then who?” 

“It will have to be someone with both the motive and opportunity. Another Grisha hoping to remove the throne from the  _ otkazats’ya _ lobby. Someone close to the Princess with access to her chambers and food.” 

“There’s only a handful of people with that kind of power and I don’t think it would be very easy to frame them.” 

“I thought the solution should have been quite obvious. It’s why I’ve been hinting it at every chance I get.” 

Alina paled. “You can’t mean---” 

“Yes. Lady Genya herself.” 

 

**XIV**

 

Alina waited by the gardens until she spotted Lady Genya and the other noble ladies of the court doing their daily rounds of the Palace. Now was her chance to sneak back up into Lady Genya’s rooms and procure the poison she needed. 

She had told herself she wasn’t actually going to use the poison. Just keep it on her person just in case. That ought to make Ivan happy. She climbed up the winding steps of the Palace until she reached the floors where Lady Genya slept. Pulling a pin from her hair and checking to see the halls were clear, Alina fiddled with the lock on door until it clicked free. Quickly, she moved into the rooms and closed the door behind her, praying no one had noticed her. 

The room was empty and much smaller than she’d been expecting. She moved quickly to the wardrobe Ivan had told her the poisons were kept in. After searching for a few minutes, Alina came across an intricate box sitting on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Upon opening, it she found the poisons sitting innocently in rows of glass bottles. She picked up the one in a lavender bottle and replaced the box on the shelf, hoping Lady Genya wouldn’t notice anything was amiss. 

Alina was just about to tuck the poison away when the door swung open and a maid stepped into the room .

“Oh!” she said, startled. “I didn’t think anyone was in here.” 

Alina froze. She tried to think of a reasonable excuse for why she could be in Lady Genya’s rooms, but could think of nothing. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” said the maid, her voice stronger than it normally would have been when talking to a noble lady. “And...is that poison?” 

Alina didn’t think. She put the bottle down on a nearby desk before lunging after the maid. She didn’t know what she was doing, only that she couldn’t have any witnesses if she wanted her plan to work. The maid went flying to the floor and Alina grabbed a nearby pillow and shoved it into the maid’s face, suffocating her. They struggled on the floor for a few minutes, the maid’s hands trying to claw her, until finally, the maid went still and Alina risked peeling back the pillow. 

She’d done it. She’d actually killed someone. 

It had been surprisingly easy and it had been entirely instinctual. She needed to survive and she would do nothing to stop. She glanced at the open doorway and rushed to close the door. It wouldn’t do to have anyone else witness the mess she’d caused. She looked down at the body, remaining surprisingly calm. 

What was she going to do? She couldn’t very well just leave a dead maid in Lady Genya’s rooms. She considered sending for Ivan, but that would draw too much attention. She didn’t want to risk dragging the body down the hall. Someone was sure to see her. If she slid the body under the bed, it might not be discovered for weeks, but then questions would naturally arise about the missing maid. Alina looked towards the window and an idea began to form. 

Dragging the body over to the window, Alina knew there was no turning back now. As soon as she flung the body out the window, she heard a sickening crunch of bones. She didn’t even spare a glance at the carnage that had erupted on the terrace floors. She simply moved across the room, bottle of poison in tow and snuck out of Lady Genya’s rooms, being sure to fiddle with the lock again so it looked as though the room were locked from the inside. 

Then she ran back to the Palace gardens just in time to hear the ladies scream.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...wtf Alina!? 
> 
> Anyways, I apologize that the Tsar wasn't featured much in this chapter, but he's sure to be in the next one! Comments welcome!


End file.
